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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885326">higher ground</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory'>superstringtheory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Information Technology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Belly Kink, Chubby Obi-Wan Kenobi, F/M, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Online Friendship, Padmé Amidala Needs a Hug, Sassy Ahsoka Tano, Secret Identity, Sick Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Stuffing, Weight Gain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:56:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Padmé Amidala is still trying to get over her breakup with Maul (two years ago now!) by distracting herself by dreaming about meeting her online gaming buddy in real life. He's shy, though, and the new guy at work has caught her eye...</p>
<p>Obi-Wan Kenobi just started a new job at a tech startup. He's busy at work and with trying not to let his raging crush on his coworker Padmé get the best of him, especially when he's been getting to know a girl online for months while gaming together. Padmé could never actually fall for him, though, because he's fat. Right? </p>
<p>tl;dr everyone finally figures out that they're all the same people online as in person and Ahsoka plays matchmaker. Padmé definitely doesn't mind that Obi-Wan is fat.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Padmé Amidala &amp; Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala &amp; Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala/Darth Maul, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Padmé is my favorite Star Wars character and she Deserved Better so here we go.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Padmé’s sitting in bed scrolling through Instagram (her favorite coworker Ahsoka in her taekwondo robes and a full beat of makeup; her college roommate Satine toting her toddler on her hip) when her computer pings with an incoming message from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars</span>
  </em>
  <span> game app. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé’s heart jumps and she grabs for her laptop, pulling it over quickly and clicking on the message icon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>wanna play one? </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>sure </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>how are you tonight? </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>I’m fine, a little stressed about work but okay</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>OldBen:</b>
  <em>
    <span> I feel you. I just got a new job </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>oh, that’s right!</span></em></p>
<p><span><br/></span><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>yeah </span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <b>Am1dala: </b>
  <em>
    <span>Good. Okay, are we playing Jedi or Sith this time? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>let’s go Jedi</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Am1dala: </b>
  <em>
    <span>you got it</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They play a few games, winning a couple and then losing. Padmé wants to play another so they go out on a win, but OldBen demurs, saying that he has to get up early the next day. It’s okay, Padmé understands- she has to be up early, too, so she really </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>go to bed soon. If she knows herself, though-- and she thinks she does, especially since the breakup with Maul-- she’s going to be up late. She always does this to herself- saying that she’ll go to bed when she says goodnight to OldBen after they finish playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars</span>
  </em>
  <span> but then she lies there in the dark thinking about how she’s going to die alone and Artoo, her rescue pittie, will have to eat her face off for sustenance. Poor thing doesn’t have the opposable thumbs to open the dog food container, so Padmé wouldn’t blame him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right now, said dog is snoring loudly on the foot of the bed. He’s probably the best thing Padmé’s done for herself after the breakup: gotten a dog. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé sighs. She really shouldn’t be thinking about this stuff. Her therapist keeps saying that if she’s lonely, she needs to put herself out there again, try to get to know people other than the people she already knows. Her therapist says that if she wants her online friendship with OldBen to count, maybe Padmé should try video chatting with him sometime. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s hard, though. Her friendship with OldBen is easy the way it is. They play games together most nights and they make small talk. Sometimes they trade weird </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars</span>
  </em>
  <span> lore and conspiracy theories and argue about which spinoff novel series are still or should still be canon. Padmé doesn’t want to complicate that, even if she really likes OldBen and has a feeling that she might like him even more if they ever got to know each other even better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Artoo rolls over and makes a doggy dream sound and Padmé sighs again and reaches down to plug her phone in and set it face down on her nightstand. She turns the lights off and tries to go to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a new guy joining Padmé’s team at work this week. She hasn’t gotten more than a glimpse of him yet, but she likes what she’s seen so far: he’s wearing a retro </span>
  <em>
    <span>Joust </span>
  </em>
  <span>t-shirt underneath a blazer and he has a blonde beard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When her supervisor brings the new guy around to meet everyone after showing him around the office, Padmé has to drag her eyes up from where his t-shirt is dimpled around his deep belly button. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Obi-Wan Kenobi, data analytics,” the new guy says, and his handshake is warm and familiar. He cups Padmé’s hand in both of his own and squeezes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Padmé Naberrie,” Padmé says, a little flustered. “UX.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like we’ll be working together a bit, then,” Obi-Wan says, and Padmé nods after a second. “Yes, definitely! The team all works pretty closely.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s mentally kicking herself for this bland response once Qui-Gon is introducing Obi-Wan to the other members of Padmé’s pod team. She should’ve been more encouraging about working with Obi-Wan personally, not vaguely talking about their open floor plan and how they all work together. She’s a certifiable idiot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is exactly the kind of situation her therapist keeps telling her about: meeting someone nice and seemingly normal, as if that’s something one can even ascertain in a thirty-second conversation. Padmé’s so out of practice with meeting men in real life that of course the first time in months that she sees someone cute she manages to stick her foot in her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well- at least she’ll definitely get a second chance or more: Obi-Wan’s joining her work pod, and ever since Padmé started working here, Ahsoka has always told her that workplace romances at Coruscant are like catching a cold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I hope that doesn’t mean that everyone shares,” Padmé had said, wrinkling her nose, and Ahsoka had laughed right in her face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no,” she’d said. “I mean that they’re inevitable when we all work so closely.” She’d looked Padmé up and down then. “Especially when some of us look like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, now they’re two years into working together and all Padmé has is a dog who hogs more than half the bed. Well, and the memory of the unfortunate, drunken night where she’d confessed to Ahsoka that she really just likes fat guys. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>likes them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé can barely remember that night but of course Ahsoka’s formed an eidetic memory of the entire event and has never let Padmé live it down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So Padmé knows that Ahsoka is going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>all over </span>
  </em>
  <span>this Obi-Wan thing. Since, you know, it’s kind of obvious that he’s cute. And fat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“New guy seems nice,” Ahsoka says as they’re eating lunch. “Seems like your type.” She spears a piece of romaine lettuce on her fork and looks at Padmé, unblinking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>type</span>
  </em>
  <span> is nice nerdy guys,” Padmé shoots back. “And that remains to be seen.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Ahsoka crunches a piece of celery between her teeth and shakes her head knowingly, the beads on the ends of her braids clicking together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” Padmé says carefully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh. I thought it was a pretty </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavy</span>
  </em>
  <span> implication, but okay. You play dumb. We’ll see how it turns out.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé can feel herself blushing but she avoids Ahsoka’s gaze by busying herself with carefully picking the crusts off of her sandwich before taking a bite. Ahsoka drops the subject for a while and she and Padmé chat about what game launches they’re most excited to see at the next E3 summit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until Ahsoka trails off mid-sentence to let out a breathy, “Oh,” and Padmé’s head jerks up. Before Padmé can beg her not to, Ahsoka is half-standing and waving someone over to join their table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It’s Obi-Wan. Of course. And of course the closest open seat is right next to Padmé. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Padmé says as Obi-Wan sits down. His belly pillows into a round little mound as he sits, and Padmé can’t think of a literal other word to say to him. Her mouth is dry. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Padmé, right?” Obi-Wan grins at her, and God, she already loves the sound of her name in his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She finds the wherewithal to nod, and his grin grows impossibly wider. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Good, glad I remembered. I’ve been introduced to so many people today it can be kind of in one ear and out the other, you know?” He pauses to take a huge bite of his burger, and Padmé feels faint. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She knows,” Ahsoka chimes in, and Padmé tries to kick her under the table but misses. “So, Obi-Wan, how do you like it at Coruscant so far?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan chews thoughtfully. “So far so good. I like the snack room.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé blushes and quickly looks down at her own tray, rearranging her face into something neutral. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a pretty nice perk,” Ahsoka agrees, and Padmé can tell that she’s loving every second of torturing Padmé. “You can stop by anytime you like.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan swallows. “I’m sure I will.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Ahsoka kicks Padmé under the table and Padmé yelps. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay?” Obi-Wan turns to her, and his eyes are bright blue. Kind. Soft (</span>
  <em>
    <span>like the rest of him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Padmé’s mind unhelpfully adds). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m good. Just hit my knee on the table.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you met anyone interesting?” Ahsoka asks, and Obi-Wan’s chubby cheeks dimple with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Qui-Gon seems like an incredible leader. I like seeing that he still has the technical knowledge, you know? Too many companies like this have management that’s completely lost touch with those of us in the trenches.” Obi-Wan pauses to take another bite and chews, thoughtfully. “Not that we’re in </span>
  <em>
    <span>trenches</span>
  </em>
  <span> or anything; I mean, the office is beautiful. Did I mention I like the snack room?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Once or twice.” Ahsoka looks like a cat with a mouthful of canary. Padmé’s almost surprised not to see feathers at the corner of her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of their lunch break passes in a blur: small talk, Obi-Wan’s dimples (he smiles a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>- Padmé’s acutely aware), Ahsoka going on a mini-rant about how much she hates Facebook and thinks it needs to be broken up by Congress, and Obi-Wan making a pit stop at the snack room before he heads back to his desk for the afternoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Padmé is in so. Much. Trouble. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few nights later, Padmé logs in to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars</span>
  </em>
  <span> and messages OldBen when she sees that he’s online. It’s been a few days since they’ve both been online at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Am1dala: </b>
  <em>
    <span>you up for a game?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>I can play one or two, then bed</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>oh yeah, you started your new job. How is it?</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>OldBen:</b>
  <em>
    <span> it’s nice so far. Busy </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>cool. Still time for Star Wars, though? </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>always</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé’s not sure why it makes her nervous that OldBen might not have as much time to play </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her in the evenings. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sure, but it’s not like they voice or video chat or anything like that. She doesn’t even know where he lives, just that he’s in the same time zone and they’re on the same server. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something makes her think that he’s cute. She knows at least that he’s about her age and that he does something involving computers, although that could be anything. He’s weirdly cagey about personal stuff, so Padmé tries not to pry, although at her loneliest times over the last few months she’s been desperate to know. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She probably shouldn’t dwell on it. OldBen is an Internet person, and as a child of the early 90s, Padmé still feels tentative about the idea of meeting him in person someday. As if that would ever happen: OldBen is so secretive and despite months of playing together, he’s never asked her to do anything other than play another game. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé should focus on real life. Focus on real options, like the new guy from work: Obi-Wan. He’s so cute and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he always seems to have something in his mouth. Just this morning, for example, Padmé looked up from her code and Obi-Wan had caught her eye across the desk, apple cider donut crumbs in his beard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oops,” he’d mouthed, shoving the rest of a donut into his mouth and covering it with his hand while he’d chewed. “Probably shouldn’t eat these over the keyboard.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Padmé had said before she could help herself. “You may as well finish.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then she’d watched him, like some sort of weirdo, eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>two more donuts </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a row, like it was nothing. And her brain had recorded every moment so she could play it back at night when she’s under the covers alone and her fingers move slick inside her: the way his cheeks had puffed out with donut, the little suppressed burp he’d swallowed in his throat after finishing the last pastry. The little crumbs caught on the shelf of his belly and the glisten of his lips as he’d licked them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé is a certifiable weirdo and she deserves everything bad that will ever happen to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But she still catches herself stopping at her favorite bakery the next day before work and buying the biggest apple fritter they have and dropping it at Obi-Wan’s work station. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw that you liked apple,” she says. “Anyone who likes apple just has to try one of these.” She says it casually, like it’s something she’d do for anyone who just moved here. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not like it’s something she does just for herself, a gift she can unwrap in her mind, over and over. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s in so much trouble. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**** </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ahsoka Tano: i think he’s flirting with you</p>
<p>Padmé Naberrie: really? </p>
<p>Ahsoka Tano: dude ate half the buffet. Isn’t that flirting in your language?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Obi-Wan is in trouble. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s, like, the third time today. First of all, the shirt he picked out for work today didn’t button all the way and he ended up in a sweater which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>too tight and has been since he surpassed 300 on the scale, but it was quick to throw on. Secondly, he was still late for the meeting with his whole pod team. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thirdly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and most importantly, Padmé brought him a pastry for the second time this week and he ate the whole thing in front of her like some kind of glutton. He’d excused himself by telling her that he’d missed breakfast because of the early meeting and she’d just looked at him with her deep, inscrutable eyes, and smiled a little half-smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you deserve it,” she’d said, and turned back to her work, leaving Obi-Wan sitting there stunned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later on that day, Obi-Wan’s still working through this moment, so when Anakin, Coruscant’s resident wünderkind coder kid, asks him to play a game of foosball, Obi-Wan says yes and follows him over to the side room with the game table. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At this point, it’s kind of cliché for a tech startup to have a ping pong table or something like that, but Obi-Wan doesn’t mind. The open-concept office is also pretty par for the course, and while he doesn’t necessarily mind that either, it certainly makes it difficult to try and get intel about your hot coworker without said hot coworker overhearing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So this is a good opportunity, even though of course Anakin is just as good at foosball as he is at coding and is kicking Obi-Wan’s ass so completely that Obi-Wan has to throw up a little T with his hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude. Let’s take a break for a second,” Obi-Wan pants. “You’ve made your point. I will never, ever bet against you on anything. Just-- have some mercy on an old guy.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anakin eyes Obi-Wan critically. “You’re, like, twenty-five.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Twenty-nine,” Obi-Wan corrects. “But I get your point.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” Anakin says. He hops up to sit on the edge of the foosball table. “I’ll accept your concession.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Obi-Wan says. “If you’re going to do me that favor, maybe you’d do me one more?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoot,” Anakin says, and his gaze is straight like a pool cue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does Padmé normally bring in bakery stuff for everyone?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anakin’s silent for a beat, and then he bursts out laughing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Padmé’</span>
  </em>
  <span>s been bringing you that shit?” Anakin’s eyebrows jump up. “You mean little miss Ice Queen? No, she doesn’t usually bring in </span>
  <em>
    <span>bakery stuff</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy sharing type.” Anakin looks a little upset by that, if Obi-Wan can tell. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Huh. Obi-Wan kind of suspects that Anakin’s got a crush on Padmé-- who wouldn’t-- but it’s still an interesting factoid, whether or not the kid’s got ulterior motives. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan drops it after that, and Anakin roundly beats him again, and then they go back to their desks. Padmé has giant headphones on and doesn’t even look up when Obi-Wan takes his seat across from her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s okay. Obi-Wan has plenty to think about.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé is hard to pin down. She’s slippery, like those elaborate hairstyles she sometimes has her long dark hair wound into. Apparently she went to cosmetology school before going back to school for UX, and Obi-Wan always likes to see what she’s done with her hair each day. He catches himself staring at her sometimes and has to remind himself that it’s weird to stare at your coworker even if said coworker smells like expensive vanilla and her hair looks like it would feel like silk between your fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s difficult to get to know her- sure, she’s brought him pastries a bunch of times, but she’s shy in conversation and hyper-focused on her work. Obi-Wan’s eaten lunch with her and Ahsoka a few times now, hoping to learn more about Padmé and what her whole deal is. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Through a couple more humiliating foosball matches, Anakin’s already filled Obi-Wan in on everything he knows, which is mainly the burning jewel of a fact that Padmé is single, and has been for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t even think she’s dated since she came here,” Anakin had said, sounding only a bit bitter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s puzzling: Padmé is drop-dead gorgeous, all long legs and doe eyes and what seems to be a wicked wit, if Obi-Wan can tell from the side-glances she sometimes gives Ahsoka when their hardass supervisor Asajj is going on about something that doesn’t matter in the long run. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan wonders if maybe she just has a secret lover and likes to keep her work life separate from her personal life. That would track with everything he knows about her so far, which admittedly isn’t all that much. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She makes him nervous, so he keeps doing stupid shit like eating too much in front of her, which is probably super unattractive. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>But then why does she keep bringing him donuts?</span>
  </em>
  <span>) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Take this afternoon, for example. Ahsoka sends Obi-Wan a private Slack message. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>lunch w/us today? We’re going to go off campus </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Obi-Wan Kenobi:</b>
  <em>
    <span> sure</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>you’re not even going to ask where? Bold move </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Obi-Wan Kenobi:</b> <em><span>I like everything</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>I bet you do </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, Ahsoka has ribbed him before about being fat- Obi-Wan doesn’t mind. She’s sharp-tongued but the girl’s got a heart of gold. She’d privately messaged him after the first time to make sure she hadn’t said anything to upset him, and Obi-Wan had let her know that it was okay. He knows that he’s fat and it’s not like it bothers him: it just is. Just like Ahsoka’s Black and Anakin’s not old enough to legally drink. It’s a fact, nothing else. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They all pile into Ahsoka’s tiny Volkswagen Rabbit, and Padmé climbs into the back without a word just as Obi-Wan is trying to figure out how to origami himself into a backseat roughly the size of his thigh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ahsoka has an old iPod hooked up to the sound system in the car and she blasts Outkast loud enough that Obi-Wan can barely hear Padmé’s sweet, soft voice, even though it’s the only thing he’s concentrating on. He feels like they’re having three different conversations: Ahsoka is jabbering to him about C-SPAN and Mark Zuckerberg while simultaneously telling Padmé that there’s a problem with her code but not to worry, she’ll look it over when they get back to work. And Padmé is leaning forward to ask Obi-Wan if he likes Indian food. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the only conversation Obi-Wan cares about. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, it doesn’t take very long, because the restaurant isn’t that far away, and because Padmé gets caught up in Ahsoka’s discussion of Mark Zuckerberg, pointedly ignoring the bit about her own work and any issues with it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ahsoka tugs Obi-Wan’s elbow as they’re walking towards the restaurant, holding him back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s always like this,” she stage-whispers, nodding at Padmé. “She’s stressed about work and hates asking for help. I bet if you offered she’d take you up on it, though.” Ahsoka releases his arm and winks, and Obi-Wan again feels like he’s been dropped into some kind of alternate reality. He decides to not think about that for the moment and just focus on the task at hand: lunch with Padmé. And Ahsoka. But Padmé is the important part- if only Obi-Wan can make it through without making a fool out of himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Four plates of chicken tikka masala, buttery naan, and saag paneer later, Obi-Wan feels like he can put that clown emoji crown on because he… has eaten too much in front of Padmé. Again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He really hadn’t intended to, but he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she kept asking whether he’d tried this or that and so it just kind of. Happened. Padmé had been talking more than Obi-Wan had ever heard her and, well. The more his own mouth was occupied, the more he could listen to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And even if he’s now desperately trying to settle his stomach, squished into Ahsoka’s ridiculous car and Padmé’s gone silent in the backseat: it was worth it. He hiccups, loudly, too late to catch it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Completely, totally worth it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as they get back from the Indian restaurant, Padmé sends Ahsoka a private Slack message. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>um. </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>you were saying?</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>that was something</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé doesn’t even need to look up and over to Ahsoka’s desk to know that Ahsoka has that canary-filled-mouth expression on again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>i think he’s flirting with you</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Padmé Naberrie: </b>
  <em>
    <span>really? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ahsoka Tano: </b>
  <em>
    <span>dude ate half the buffet. Isn’t that flirting in your language?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padme feels herself turning a deep red and she clicks out of the private message screen and over to her own code. Which is its own issue. She resolves to focus on her work for the rest of the afternoon and see if she can diagnose the problem. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s only forty-five minutes into this endeavor when another Slack message pings through. She ignores it, thinking that it’s just Ahsoka again, teasing her about her crush on Obi-Wan. Then it pings again, and she looks up to see Ahsoka deep in concentration on her own work across the room, but Obi-Wan’s bright blue eyes meeting her own across the desk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He points to her headphones and Padmé slowly removes them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see my message?” he says, and Padmé shakes her head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she says. “Let me look.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And there it is. A private Slack message from Obi-Wan, offering help with her code problem. Which is just so sweet and unnecessary. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Padmé says, feeling herself blush again. “Um. That’d be really nice, thank you. I’ve been trying to fix it for the last hour and I haven’t gotten anywhere.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No prob,” Obi-Wan says, and then he’s standing up from his desk and coming around to her side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>In a quick panic, Padmé x-es out of her conversation with Ahsoka and pulls her code to the forefront of the screen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just don’t know what’s wrong,” she explains. “I didn’t do programming in undergrad so I’ve been teaching myself but I’m not on the same level as you guys.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan assures her, then gestures at her seat. “May I?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Padmé hops up and gives Obi-Wan her desk chair. Because Padmé is a freak, her heart swoops a little bit in her chest when she hears the chair creak as Obi-Wan settles in, and when she notices how he has to scoot it back from the desk to make room for his belly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Obi-Wan peers at the screen for a long moment, then clicks deftly, inserting his cursor like a sword. Padmé watches him, and he swivels the desk chair back to her slowly. There’s a big smile on his face, and he’s even more handsome close up: the chubby cheeks with dimples that Padmé just can’t get over, the neatly trimmed beard, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his body. He’s plush all over, but there’s clearly some muscle under the fat, like he used to be some sort of athlete but has gone deeply to seed. His belly is magnificent- proudly pushing out in front of him like the stern of a boat. To Padmé’s trained eye, she feels like she can tell that it’s still bloated from his massive lunch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That easy?” Padmé asks him after a beat, and Obi-Wan’s dimple deepens. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” he demurs. “You were really close. I didn’t have to do much.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé is trying to figure out what to say next, which is difficult when it seems like all she can think about is how much she’d like to run her hands over him. Luckily-- or not, because it seems like the universe is set out to torture her with every instance today-- she’s interrupted by the sound of discordant singing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their bumbling IT guy, Jar-Jar, is coming around the room with a tray of cupcakes, densely frosted with sprinkles on top. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh,” Padmé says before she can help herself. “I think it’s Jar-Jar’s birthday. Look!” She feels herself getting up as if in an out-of-body experience and she goes and grabs two cupcakes: one for herself and one for Obi-Wan. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan, to her complete delight, doesn’t protest. In fact, he lifts his cupcake to hers in a mock-toast and takes a huge bite. And when Padmé only nibbles at her own, she’s able to convince him to finish hers, too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looks a little uncomfortable at the end, and Padmé realizes that by pretty much shoving her cupcake on him, it’s almost like she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeding </span>
  </em>
  <span>Obi-Wan. As if that’s not what she’s been trying to do for the last couple of weeks, what with the not-so-subtle pastries. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan gets up, slowly, and stands, a hand on the crest of his (surely, achingly full by now!) stomach. He belches, and then gets really pink around the cheeks and ears. It’s adorable. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says. “Christ. I really overdid it.” He stifles another belch, and Padmé tries not to squirm, with monumental effort. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she says, and when did her voice drop an octave? The workplace is really not the place to be trying to seduce her coworker with cake. She should at least buy him dinner first (and wouldn’t she ever). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé clears her throat. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We all have our vices.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then she has to pretend to need to run off to a meeting in the conference room, one of the few rooms at Coruscant that isn’t open-concept. Padmé allows herself a mini freak out there, and then pulls herself together enough to return to her desk, just inches away from Obi-Wan, where she puts her headphones back on and works until everyone else has left the office. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That night, Padmé logs in to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars</span>
  </em>
  <span> and sees that she’s missed a message from OldBen.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>can we talk? There’s something I need to tell you </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well. That certainly throws a wrench into things. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm on <a href="https://superstringtheory.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> here. Feel free to share soft Obi Wan thoughts. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yes, this is exactly not how Obi-Wan pictured this going: his too-tight dress shirt pulling at its buttons because he’s overeaten, again, stomach starting to hurt and Padmé not even glancing his way.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybe it was really stupid, sending that kind of message to Padmé when Obi-Wan knew full well that she was offline. It’s just- well. He’s known that she’s Am1dala for a while now, and he feels like they’ve really been connecting at work, so it seems untoward to continue also connecting with her online without fessing up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, if he actually wanted to fess up, he probably should just tell her who he is. But that also seems weird. So he’s decided on this in-between, and he’ll see if she’ll go for it. He really, really hopes that she does. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé’s avatar blinks online a few hours later, and Obi-Wan can see that she’s typing. He jiggles his foot in anticipation as he waits for her response. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Am1dala: </b>
  <em>
    <span>sure, what’s up? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>… </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>?</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>OldBen:</b>
  <em>
    <span> … I just. I like you, Am1dala. I think we should meet up in person.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>… </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Am1dala: </b>
  <em>
    <span>wait, what? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>god, I’m sorry. I just had to tell you. I figured out that we live in a similar area and so I thought maybe we could meet up in a neutral location and get lunch, or something</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>jesus christ, OldBen. Are you gonna axe murder me? </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>OldBen: </b>
  <em>
    <span>no, I’m a real guy. I promise. Just as nerdy in real life </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>… saying you’re not an axe murderer is exactly what an axe murderer would say</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>but i guess i’d be okay with it if you’re okay with me bringing a friend just to make sure you’re real and everything</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>sure, whatever makes you feel more comfortable</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shit, that definitely means that she’ll be bringing Ahsoka. Who’s going to never, ever let either of them live this down. But that’s okay- Obi-Wan is glad that Padmé isn’t, like, the kind of girl who runs off to meet random men from the internet at the drop of a hat. Not that he thought that she was, but it’s still comforting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it’s a little weird (or more than a little), but Padmé figures that she should at least see what happens? Sure, maybe she’s sort of started a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Obi-Wan at work, but she’s known OldBen for longer. She wants to give it a chance. Just to see. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ahsoka finds the whole thing hilarious, and agrees immediately to accompany Padmé. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Watching internet people meet in real life is like my drug of choice,” she says. “It’s either going to be amazing or it’ll crash and burn. Either way, worth it.” She blows on her fingernail, recently painted bright blue, as she dips the brush back into the bottle to move on to the next nail. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh.” Padmé groans, covering her face with her hands. “I should back out.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-uh,” Ahsoka tuts. “This has already made my week. It could make my month. Or my year. Don’t take this from me, I beg of you. I already got my ass chewed by Asajj this morning, so don’t take this one pleasure from me.” She recaps the nail polish bottle and waves her hand in the air dramatically. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Fine,” Padmé agrees. “But we’re going to get there early and scout it out.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Works for me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Except that OldBen isn’t early. Padmé had given him a burner WhatsApp number to text her on, and they’d agreed to meet at the bench nearby the Chewy’s Boba shop at the outdoor mall at 11 a.m. that Saturday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At 10:30, Padmé and Ahsoka arrive and there isn’t anyone else around, except for the tall dude with dreadlocks manning the boba shop. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>10:45, Padmé paces. Ahsoka makes her sit down again. Padmé rereads through her messages with OldBen until Ahsoka takes away her phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>11:00 and no OldBen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>11:05, still no OldBen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At 11:15, Ahsoka gives Padmé her phone back. No new messages. Padmé opens and then closes the app to refresh. Still no messages. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Am1dala:</b> <em><span>on your way? :) </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>11:30, no response. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At noon Padmé angry-drinks a honeydew milk tea. She chews the bobas so hard that she thinks she’s getting TMJ. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sends two more messages to OldBen, who doesn’t respond. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At 12:30, Padmé and Ahsoka leave. Ahsoka, for the record, is very nice and doesn’t mention the whole crashing and burning part. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At 9:47 p.m., a message comes through from OldBen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>OldBen:</b> <em><span>I’m sorry</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé deletes the message, and then the app entirely. She turns off her phone and goes to sleep. Artoo snuffles his way under the blankets with her and she doesn’t even mind that he gets doggy spit all over her face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé is still in a terrible mood when she gets to work on Monday morning. She’s also running late because she overslept and then had to take Artoo out and he took </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span> to choose a place to go, and everything is awful and she doesn’t know why she even tries. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ahsoka tries to talk to her right away when Padmé arrives, but Padmé brushes her off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have work to do,” she says, and she knows she’s being rude but she doesn’t really care. She puts her headphones on and she really </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>get some good work done for a while. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s a loud ping and she opens a Slack message. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>wanna go get some coffee? We could invite obi-wan</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Amidala:</b> <em><span>*shrug emoji* whatever</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>i’m taking that as a yes. I’ll message him </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Padmé doesn’t even know what it is that clues her in, but suddenly she just knows. Obi-Wan stands up and catches her eye and he looks so </span><em><span>apologetic </span></em><span>and he asks her how her weekend was and he sounds so </span><em><span>nervous, </span></em><span>almost like he </span><em><span>knows</span></em><span> that her weekend was shitty for some reason</span> <span>and it all clicks. OldBen’s new job coinciding with Obi-Wan starting at Coruscant; OldBen suddenly wanting to meet up after Obi-Wan and Padmé were flirting more. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>OldBen</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Padmé says in a savage whisper, and she barely needs to see Obi-Wan immediately go red. She cuts him off mid-stammer. “Go fuck yourself.” She whirls away, shoving her laptop into her bag and stalking out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t have a good reason. He doesn’t even have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reason</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not really, other than he chickened out and he realized that maybe it’d be really super weird and awkward for Padmé to suddenly, on the spot learn that her online friend/crush (?) is actually her real-life coworker/crush (?). Obi-Wan’s not entirely certain about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>crush</span>
  </em>
  <span> part of that equation, especially not now, which makes it hard to hypothesize potential solutions to this problem entirely of his own making. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s hard to concentrate on his work all morning, especially when he’s hyper-aware of Padmé sitting across the desk from him-- at least until she picks up all of her stuff in a huff and goes to sit by Ahsoka. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, there’s this stupid corporate picnic happening this afternoon, and there was a time (a recent time, even, like late last week!) when Obi-Wan pictured himself walking outside with Padmé, maybe even holding her hand. Sitting next to her on the grass, laughing at something she said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He never pictured any of the shitty parts of picnics in these daydreams, like how there are always bees and inescapable conversations with people who bore you and how you can eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much because you’re feeling guilty about standing up your gorgeous coworker. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, this is exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> how Obi-Wan pictured this going: his too-tight dress shirt pulling at its buttons because he’s overeaten, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, stomach starting to hurt and Padmé not even glancing his way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s already eaten one and a half brats and three hot dogs, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from continuing to eat, simply to do it. It’s part self-flagellation, part showboating. Wasn’t Padmé always trying to shove stupid amounts of cake and donuts on him? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get enough to eat?” Jar-Jar strolls over to where Obi-Wan is sitting on one of the stupid little picnic blankets the company has laid out for the event. The Coruscant logo is embroidered on one corner. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan nods through a bite and burps into his fist. He chugs the rest of his can of soda, hoping the carbonation will help. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t, because he ends up filling another plate when he gets up to put the can into the recycle bin, and he cleans it, moodily shoving a brat into his mouth while watching Padmé talk with Ahsoka across the lawn. She looks so beautiful, haughtily so, and she keeps tossing her long hair around in the wind, or maybe it’s just windy. Either way, it’s extremely distracting and Obi-Wan is getting a stomachache. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, that doesn’t stop him from eating three quarters of Jar-Jar’s leftover hot dog and plate of chips, because he can’t turn it down. The IT guy might be a little goofy, but he’s a good person to talk to when one wants to distract oneself from how oneself has utterly fucked things up with one’s perfect girl. Especially when said girl sits roughly two feet away from you all day long and she’s got stupid flowers woven into her stupid hair and she’s wearing all </span>
  <em>
    <span>white</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a picnic like only a crazy person would. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the office, Obi-Wan is struggling. He really ate too much and it’s embarrassing; he makes a kind of ‘oof’ sound when he sits down, heavily, and he can tell how bloated his belly looks. It also hurts, like, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he chews antacids and hopes that Padmé can’t hear the disgruntled noises his stomach is making from across the desk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé, for the record, swishes back in from the picnic, still pristinely, blindingly white in her little cropped shirt and pants outfit. Obi-Wan doesn’t even know how that’s legal, to wear something like that. Not that he’s exactly the pinnacle of workwear, himself, considering that he’s currently full to bursting out of his clothes and has eaten himself into a stupor. He places a hand on his side, casually, and rubs a little to ease the pressure. His belly gurgles and he swallows back a belch, guiltily peeking up at Padmé, who isn’t paying attention at all. Instead, she’s frowning at her screen and then getting up and swishing away again, this time into their manager’s office. Oof. Obi-Wan would think more about that, but he’s honestly too full to really do more than sit there and digest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Padmé gets back from Asajj’s office, Obi-Wan is in a different meeting in the glass-encased meeting room, and she’s glad for the reprieve of having to pointedly ignore him sitting across from her, stuffed full with stupid picnic food. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A message pings in from Ahsoka, who meets Padmé’s eyes from across the room and cocks her head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>so how’d it go with big boss Asajj</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>she’s not the BIG boss </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>you try telling her that</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Padmé Naberrie: </b>
  <em>
    <span>ugh. It was okay i guess. She said that if I, “verbally harass a coworker” again it’s going in my “permanent record,” whatever that is. Like i’m a middle schooler</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ahsoka Tano: </b>
  <em>
    <span>well, you did tell him to go fuck himself…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>… like a middle schooler </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>touché</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>soooooooo</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>don’t even say it</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>but</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>srsly Ahsoka i mean it</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>but but but </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>did anyone ever tell you that you’re incorrigible? </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>all the time, why? </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Padmé Naberrie: </b>
  <em>
    <span>ugh. I’m not ready for that. Not right now. I’m still mad</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>I get to be mad! </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ahsoka Tano: </b>
  <em>
    <span>you do. I agree. He fucked up. But. Like…</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ahsoka Tano: </b>
  <em>
    <span>u guys are perfect for each otherrrrrr </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>and did you see that he ate, like, SEVEN hot dogs at the picnic? That was probably for you </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Padmé Naberrie: </b>
  <em>
    <span>No, I did not</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ahsoka Tano: </b>
  <em>
    <span>LIAR</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Padmé Naberrie:</b> <em><span>i’m leaving this conversation before I “verbally harass” another coworker </span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s true. Padmé is a huge liar. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span>, one thousand percent noticed exactly how many hot dogs Obi-Wan ate at the picnic (and Ahsoka was wrong; it was actually three brats and four hot dogs, but who’s counting). And she knows that she’s being a little over-the-top about the whole thing, but she’s always been like this: it takes a lot to make her angry, but then it takes a long time for her to cool back down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She just needs to give herself some time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That Thursday, Obi-Wan isn’t at the office when Padmé arrives, even though he almost always beats her there. It’s not like Padmé’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>memorized his schedule </span>
  </em>
  <span>or anything. It’s not a thing. It’s nothing. It doesn’t bother her or intrigue her one single bit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She makes it to 10 a.m. before she messages Ahsoka to see if she wants to grab coffee. Ahsoka looks up from her desk, meets Padmé’s eyes from across the room, and jerks her head to the side. Padmé gathers her purse and walks over to meet Ahsoka. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You wondering where your Jedi Master is?” Ahsoka asks as they walk over to the little coffee kiosk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Padmé says, a beat too late. She pretends to be really interested in the sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Ahsoka says, “Apparently he’s out sick.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“... Oh.” Padmé’s not really sure what to make of this. Maybe he wants to avoid seeing her? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Padmé wonders if Ahsoka is a mind-reader, because then she says, “It’s not because of you, so don’t go getting an even bigger head. I had a meeting with him yesterday afternoon and dude was looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>rough</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé turns this fact over in her mind as they arrive at the coffee stand and make their orders. She’s still thinking about it as she takes the first sip of her white chocolate mocha. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan, sick and alone at home. Hair sleep-rumpled and cheeks glowing with fever. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shit. Padmé’s going to forgive him and do something stupid like try to bring him get-well donuts, isn’t she? </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One more chapter to go after this and it'll be the feedist hedonism we've all been waiting for! ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The really annoying thing is, Padmé likes taking care of people. She likes figuring out what people’s favorite candies are and buying them as a surprise when they’re having a bad day. She likes bringing people tea when they seem tired or under the weather. </p>
<p>It’s driving her nuts that Obi-Wan is sick and alone and she’s not doing anything about it. </p>
<p>Ahsoka can’t understand what’s so complicated about it. </p>
<p>“Dude,” she tells Padmé over lunch, “Just go buy him a get-well cake and shove it in his face until you both cum.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Obi-Wan feels terrible. First of all, the whole thing with Padmé and with chickening out about meeting her and sending a stupid apology with no explanation. Secondly, everything hurts and all he wants is to lie in bed until Old Faithful blows the United States to smithereens or whatever it is that climatologists keep warning about. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His head hurts, his throat hurts, his limbs hurt. When he called in to Coruscant early this morning to say he was sick and not coming in, his voice was all raspy and not in a sexy way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe this is his due punishment for being an asshole and standing up Padmé: to get the plague. So he deserves it. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he feels bad. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even Threepio, his cranky, elderly cat, takes mercy on him and curls up like a comma behind his knees as Obi-Wan exists on the couch, alternately too hot and then too cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even eat breakfast, and barely nibbles at some buttered toast for lunch. He can’t remember the last time he wasn’t hungry for a reason that wasn’t ‘having eaten enough for several people.’ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At some point in the afternoon, he wonders vaguely how high his fever is. He can tell that he has one, what with the shivers and the dysregulating internal thermostat and all. He’s just getting up to go rummage around in his bathroom cabinet for the thermometer when the doorbell rings. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The really annoying thing is, Padmé </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> taking care of people. She likes figuring out what people’s favorite candies are and buying them as a surprise when they’re having a bad day. She likes bringing people tea when they seem tired or under the weather. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s driving her nuts that Obi-Wan is sick and alone and she’s not doing anything about it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ahsoka can’t understand what’s so complicated about it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude,” she tells Padmé over lunch, “Just go buy him a get-well cake and shove it in his face until you both cum.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Ahsoka,” Padmé says, appalled and-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamnit</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- a little turned on by the mental imagery. Ahsoka really does have a way with words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“People do way weirder shit, Padmé,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve been on the internet long enough to know that, and I think you have, too.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s fair- Padmé had once accidentally done a deep-dive on furry culture and she will never un-learn all of that shit- but it still makes Padmé blush to think about it. Buying extra pastries and giving them to your crush for him to eat, unbidden, is one thing (</span>
  <em>
    <span>and didn’t he look so good with a little smear of frosting on the corner of his mouth, stifling a hiccup from eating too much sugar too fast?</span>
  </em>
  <span>), but actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeding a sexual partner</span>
  </em>
  <span> is another. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see your problem,” Ahsoka is saying, as Padmé tunes back into what she’s talking about. Ahsoka is gesturing with her fork and her braids are whipping around. “You like him. You like giving him things to eat. He likes you, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> seems to like eating things you bring him. It’s not that far of a step.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, when Ahsoka puts it like that… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” Padmé relents, turning her own fork over in her fingers. “I’ve just never told anyone about it before.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So? There’s a first time for everything, Padmé. Just go over there and tell him you like him. You can get to the shoving cake in his face part later.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé can feel herself blushing again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I could drop by,” she allows, already thinking about which kind of soup goes best with gooey, warm chocolate-chip cookies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Is it extremely creepy that Padmé hacked into the employee information database to find Obi-Wan’s address? Maybe. Also, possibly illegal, and completely unnecessary, as when Padmé had told Ahsoka of her success, Ahsoka had just yawned and said, “Oh, did you need his address? I’ve got it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Padmé had said, goggling at Ahsoka, who had remained infuriatingly casual. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘what’? I dropped him off one time after happy hour. Chill, girl.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In any case, Padmé got the address, and now she’s here, with a reusable tote bag filled with her local deli’s best soup and chocolate chip cookies. She rings the doorbell, before she can lose her nerve. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan answers after just a few moments. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” Obi-Wan honestly looks a lot like he did in Padmé’s imagination. He’s dressed in plaid pajama pants and a clingy, soft t-shirt. Padmé tries her best not to think about just how clingy, and fails. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan coughs, and she’s reminded that she’s there for an actual reason other than to creepily ogle him in his pajamas. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Padmé says back, because she loses about fifty IQ points every time she has to speak to Obi-Wan. “I, uh. I brought you some stuff.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, saying the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>cookies </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>soup</span>
  </em>
  <span> is too embarrassing. As was the cake, although Padmé can’t lie and say that she didn’t really consider it. It strikes her so hilariously sometimes, how completely inane, inert shit can turn her on, like merely reading the listing of varieties of cake a bakery offers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan steps aside, clearing his throat. His voice catches in the middle of his sentence and it makes Padmé’s heart pang in her chest. “Here, come in,” he says, “You’ll catch cold.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s funny,” Padmé says, and steps past him carefully, noting how he sucks in his gut a little to allow her to pass by. Jesus. She might not make it out of here alive. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Steady, Padmé</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she tells herself sternly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop being such a horny dirtbag.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The thing is, though: Padmé </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a horny dirtbag and since she’s not mad at Obi-Wan anymore, all she wants to do is straddle that gut and grind up against it until she comes. First things first, though: clearly, Obi-Wan is in need of some caretaking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now that Padmé is here in his space, Obi-Wan feels himself rallying, like she’s a quick-acting antibiotic or painkiller. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Speaking of catching cold,” Padmé is saying as she steps into the little kitchen, setting down her bags and pulling out containers, “how are you feeling?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan is still working through how she’s getting a bowl out from the cupboard and finding a spoon, deftly opening drawers like she lives there. He blinks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” he says, “Okay, I guess? I was just about to take my temperature when I heard the doorbell.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Padmé says, and then suddenly she’s all up in his space, putting her lithe little palm on his forehead. To be fair, Obi-Wan’s apartment is tiny, so there’s not a lot of distance to cross, but it’s still a bit dizzying to have her so close to him so quickly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm,” she hums, and then her other hand is on his neck. “You do feel warm.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, no shit. Of course he feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the girl of his dreams has her hands all over his face and she’s so close that he would be able to smell that vanilla scent of her hair, if his nose wasn’t all stuffed up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should take some Tylenol or something,” she suggests. “Might make you feel a little less crummy.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Obi-Wan says, then pauses for a chesty cough. “God. Sorry. That part’s getting better, I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé makes a face, and he steps back from her, misunderstanding. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, sorry,” she says, closing the distance between them again and touching his arm gently. “I’m just sorry that you were feeling worse earlier.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, and then watches as Padmé goes back into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You go get some meds,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll get the food ready.” She makes a little shooing motion with her hand, and Obi-Wan can’t help but obey. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the bathroom, he swallows pills with a wince and surveys himself in the mirror: this is not how he intended to look if he ever had Padmé over to his place. Flushed, a little sweaty, hair clearly unwashed. Dark circles under his eyes, and wearing one of his most giant t-shirts-- which, to be honest, isn’t so giant anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he emerges, Padmé has a steaming bowl of soup set on the coffee table and she’s crouched down on the floor, scratching Threepio underneath the chin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Obi-Wan says hoarsely, and Padmé looks up at him and smiles. “He doesn’t usually like strangers.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I’m not a stranger, then,” Padmé says, standing up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess not,” Obi-Wan says, and then coughs a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Padmé says, and takes him by the elbow, pulling him to the couch. “Eat the soup. It’ll help.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In all honesty, Obi-Wan still isn’t very hungry, but he’d probably do anything Padmé asked him to, so he takes a spoonful and swallows, noticing as he does so that Padmé’s eyes are glued to him, to the motion of the spoon to his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It reminds him of something, of the knowing look in Ahsoka’s eye one time when Padmé had dropped a half-dozen donuts off for Obi-Wan, and it clicks together like puzzle pieces. She likes this. Like, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>likes this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, two can play at this game. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s disappointing: Obi-Wan makes it through barely a quarter of the soup before he’s setting the spoon down, pausing to cough into his elbow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you done?” Padmé asks, trying not to sound too disappointed. “You need your strength to get better.” She hears how stupid this sounds even as the words leave her mouth but it’s like she can’t help herself. She will say literally anything to get Obi-Wan to eat this soup and those cookies, goddammit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan blinks at her, and then a grin slides across his face, slow and easy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you could feed it to me, since I’m so weak and sickly.” Obi-Wan leans back further into the couch cushions, and Padmé feels a bright, metallic heat skewer her through, like someone had taken a lightsaber to her clit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Padmé says after a beat, and Obi-Wan hands her the spoon. His eyes are bright on hers, not just from fever but from something else. Padmé almost drops the spoon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not exactly how Padmé pictured this first time, but it works, somehow. She spoons soup into Obi-Wan’s mouth until she’s scraping the bottom of the bowl and he grins at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that all?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So then she’s feeding him the chocolate-chip cookies, and he takes them from her hand like a baby bird. Except baby birds are not sexual, and this certainly is. Padmé feels like she’s sitting on a live wire, a current running through her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan makes a muffled noise against her fingers, pausing for a polite burp. Padmé realizes that she’s sitting on her foot, leaning up against his soft bulk on the couch, and even though he’s sick and she’s been feeding him chicken soup, it’s still so hot that she feels like burning. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan seems to notice their closeness, as he swallows another mouthful of cookie, and Padmé leans in a little more, so close that she could kiss him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What a catch, huh?” Obi-Wan asks roughly, his voice low. “Fat and germy.” His eyes don’t leave hers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind,” Padmé says in a tiny voice, and Obi-Wan licks a cookie crumb from his mustache. “Either thing, I mean.” She says this last bit louder, like she’s being defiant or proving a point. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” The dimple Padmé likes so much reappears and Padmé’s heart gives a little jolt. Obi-Wan rakes a hand through his already-mussed hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d kiss you, you know, if I weren’t contagious.” His voice is still low, raspy, and even though Padmé knows it’s temporary, just from illness, it’s wildly sexy, like how a half-clad man on the cover of a romance novel would sound. Although Padmé was never into the glistening abs part of that- give her a belly any day, plump and taut from being stuffed full. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Padmé says. This is the awkward part, but if he’s already mostly there, she should just go all the way. “So, the other thing is that… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t mind the first part.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The fat part?” Obi-Wan asks, and Padmé can’t even look at him, she’s blushing too hard. He tugs her hand, though, gently but insistently, until she looks up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, honey, lucky for you I don’t mind that part, either.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two weeks later, Padmé is back on Obi-Wan’s couch, pressed up against his side. This time, though, there’s a whole lot less soup and a whole lot less clothing, too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If this meal were a marathon, Obi-Wan would be in the final stretch, and he vaguely remembers reading some article sometime about a “runner’s high”- a point in the marathon where you felt like you could just keep going even though you’d already run miles and miles. He feels like he’s approaching this point, except instead of running, he’s been eating like it’s going out of style. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan feels planetary. Padmé had put on an old sci-fi movie, so bad it’s good, and to that background hum, she’d started out hand-feeding him finger foods, then he’d gotten to watch her undress herself slowly while he jammed alternating bites of prime rib and creamy mashed potato into his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now he’s finished up the enormous steak and his stomach has begun to ache, but not nearly enough that he wants to be done eating yet. He hiccups, and Padmé makes a little sound in the back of her throat. She’s stripped down to just her panties and bra, and Obi-Wan can bet that she’s already wet, judging by how blown her pupils are. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gonna bring me dessert, or what?” He has to pant a little to get the whole sentence out, and enjoys watching both Padmé’s bitten lip and the view of her ass as she pops up to run to the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan lays a hand on the crest of his belly as he waits for Padmé to return, jamming the heel of his other hand into his side where his stomach feels like it’s splitting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?” he says when Padmé reemerges, holding a plate with a decadently-frosted chocolate cake on it. “Let’s see what I can do.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The answer to what Obi-Wan can do is astonishing, and Padmé feels like she’s been dropped into her own wildest fantasy. He’s currently so full his stomach keeps making disgruntled gurgling sounds, but he keeps on shoving cake into his mouth as Padmé tries not to grind up against him too hard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he has to take a little break, and Padmé takes the plate from him and sets it on the coffee table. It’s half-empty, and Padmé has to marvel at his capacity, even now. It’s incredible how much he can pack away. Of course, by looking at him it’s not hard to see where it all goes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After she sets the fork on the plate next to the rest of the cake, Padmé cradles Obi-Wan’s tummy like it’s a treasure and she’s its jealous dragon overlord. Obi-Wan belches, open-mouthed, and Padmé shivers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So fuckin’ full.” He groans, and another burp slips out of his mouth as Padmé pats his tummy. He shifts his weight, uncomfortable, and Padmé enjoys the feeling of his plush fat pushing up against her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww,” she says. “Poor baby. Too bad you’re not done yet.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan cracks an eye open and blows out a hard breath. “You’re a terror.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re cute like this, all stuffed fit to bursting.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad you think so.” Obi-Wan makes a mewl of discomfort as he leans back against the couch cushions and Padmé presses up against him again. “Oof. Too much, honey.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry.” Padmé scoots back so she isn’t putting so much pressure on his stomach and Obi-Wan sighs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay. Just”-- he pauses to let another belch rumble up-- “too full for that right now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” Padmé carefully leans forward to kiss him, and enjoys the taste of chocolate on his lips. “You need something to drink?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Obi-Wan considers, and Padmé will never get sick of how adorable he is with his dimples and double chin and a little sheen of sweat from eating like it’s hard work. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>And it must be hard work, to eat this much, to keep eating past when a normal person would proclaim fullness and lay their fork down.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just thinking about that makes Padmé shiver.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe some milk,” he allows, and when Padmé comes back from the kitchen with a glass of milk for him, Obi-Wan has the plate of cake balanced on top of his belly, and more crumbs in his beard. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got hungry,” he says, and even though Padmé knows that’s a lie, she can’t help that hearing that makes her so horny she can’t stand it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they’re done, there’s cake crumbs all over both of them and they’re both panting, for different reasons. Padmé’s never been happier in her life. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*** </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, curled up in bed next to Obi-Wan, Padmé checks her phone and sees a few messages from Ahsoka. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>saw ur new profile pic, u guys are disgustingly cute together</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>also, ur so fuckin obvious. Got your cute little hand right on his belly</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Ahsoka Tano:</b> <em><span>which is NOT little at all</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Padmé grins. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we come to the end! This was so fun to write. :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I recently spent $65 on a vintage promotional Phantom Menace t-shirt featuring Padmé on a tie-dye backdrop and I do not regret it one single bit.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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